Your'e Still the One Page 13

  “Rachel?” He was clearly startled, obviously too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice she’d gathered her clothes. “What are you doing?” he asked, getting up and again slipping his hand behind her neck.

  This time there would be no kiss. “I have to decorate for the dance tomorrow.” She tugged her sweater over her head. “I told you, remember?”

  “Right.” He got into his briefs and jeans, then picked up his shirt and pulled it on, frowning as he buttoned it. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She lifted her trapped hair from inside the neckline and draped it over her shoulder so she could put on her jacket. “A little chilly, but I’ll live.”

  Subdued, he watched her step into her boots. Clearly he knew something was off. She only hoped he left it alone. “I expect the dance is still in the storage barn behind the hardware store,” he said, and she nodded. “Can I help?”

  “Jesse, Trace and a few others volunteered to set up the tables, chairs and stage.”

  “Volunteered?”

  She smiled. “I didn’t twist hard enough to break any bones.”

  Regret in his eyes, he stared at her for a long tense moment. “I shouldn’t have brought up Wallace. That was stupid.”

  “He’s bound to be on your mind today.” She needed to remember that herself. This wasn’t an easy time for Matt. And even if he had once considered using her to get back at his father, it didn’t mean he hadn’t cared for her. Or else he would’ve ignored her age and had sex with her.

  The mood had dipped, though, and they didn’t talk much on the drive back to the Sundance. He dropped her off, no kiss, or even an attempt made by either of them. But then that would’ve been risky. Rachel didn’t need everyone knowing her business.

  Since Nikki wasn’t back yet, Matt didn’t get out of the truck. She closed the passenger door, resigned that things would be left up in the air between them, but then he let down the power window. “What time you headed to town?” he asked.

  “Not for a while. I have things to do here before I leave.”

  “I’d give you a ride, but I don’t know when I’ll get to talk to Nikki.”

  “Don’t worry about it, really. I’ll drive myself, or go with Trace to make sure he doesn’t flake out on me.”

  His absent nod told her he was still juggling things in his head. “I’ll show up at some point.” He waited, his gaze sharpening as he studied her face. “If it’s okay.”

  “Of course it is, but I’m putting you to work.”

  He seemed to relax, giving her a lopsided smile. “I figured as much.”

  “Maybe Nikki will want to come, too.”

  “Yeah,” he said, lacking enthusiasm.

  “It’s your call mentioning it. After you two talk she may not want to be around people, or maybe putting up cheesy decorations would be a good distraction.”

  The preoccupied glaze to his eyes was back as he stared toward the house. “She likes hanging with you and Jamie. The thing is though—” he returned his gaze to her face “—I was hoping you and I could still get together afterward.”

  She should’ve been jumping for joy and ready to rescind her offer to help decorate. But the knot in her stomach from earlier hadn’t quite disappeared. “I have a question,” she said, unable to help herself, even knowing it was a bad idea. “Was I a rebellion for you?”

  His unwavering gaze unnerved her. Perhaps because she’d been secretly hoping to catch him off balance. But he appeared to be a man who’d already given the question some thought. “Funny you should bring that up. I’ve been wondering if you feel that way about me.”

  12

  RACHEL RAN LATE THE REST of the afternoon. Too many guest issues pulled her in several directions. Any other time she’d have sworn the dude ranch idea had been her dumbest yet. Today she welcomed other people’s problems sidelining her own worries and head games.

  She stopped at the second-floor landing, closing her eyes, convinced she could still feel the press of his lips on hers. How had he known just where to touch her? Or how much pressure to use? How could he possibly have known that looking deep into her eyes while she climaxed was the perfect thing to do?

  With a start, she opened her eyes, glanced over the railing toward the living room, then hurried down the stairs.

  Dwelling on Matt was not in her best interest. Not today, not any day. Yes, she cherished those times they’d spent at Mill Creek and sneaking out to meet him after dark. But they were different people now. Why had she presumed she still knew him? Why on earth could she imagine, even now, that she’d ever truly known him at all? She’d been sixteen, for pity’s sake. Her biggest fear her junior year had been getting caught wearing the same blue sundress as Mary-Jane Ledet again.

  After that fateful summer dance, Rachel would’ve died a slow death before confessing to her mother that the permanent grape juice stain had been intentional. Mary-Jane was a senior and had much bigger boobs. She’d made Rachel look as if she’d rummaged in her mom’s closet for a dress she couldn’t fill out.

  It had been awful, a huge deal, full of teen angst. Even though Matt had left months earlier, and Rachel had already decided her life was over. Obviously that hadn’t been the case. She was still very much alive and going as crazy as ever, trying to figure out the crack he’d made about his being her rebellion. The smart thing would be to let it go. He was leaving again, if not tomorrow, perhaps the day after. Which meant she really needed to avoid getting carried away.

  She looked out the window, saw Jesse sitting in his truck and grabbed her jacket and purse. She didn’t need him ditching her, too. Trace had gotten tired of waiting and left for town without her.

  “When are you getting your own car?” Jesse asked, once they were on their way.

  “You trying to tell me something?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good.” She sighed, letting her head fall back against the seat. “While you’re gone to help Shea move can I use your truck?”

  “Already planned on it.” Jesse looked over at her. “What’s wrong, Rach?”

  “Nothing, it’s just that...it used to be easy borrowing Mom’s car because she never went anywhere. Lately she’s either running to town or visiting her friends. It’s great. I’m glad to see her have a life. But it’s kinda weird, too, you know?”

  “I wasn’t talking about the car.”

  She turned to smile at her brother. She didn’t have a favorite, and she trusted all of them with her life. But if she could tell anyone about the uncertainty she felt over her future, it was Jesse. A few months ago he’d been prepared to leave the Sundance in order to help the family. He’d totally get why she felt compelled to stay.

  “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he said quietly.

  Rachel laughed. “Afraid I’m going to dig deep?”

  He smiled. “Come on, squirt, tell me what’s going on.”

  “First, I’m so happy you have Shea, and that she’s moving here. You guys are great together. Second, we don’t have money for a car, so that’s why I’m leeching off everyone else. And third...” She hesitated, took a breath. “I’m leaving once the Sundance gets back on track.” He gave a small nod, and didn’t react as if she were nuts. “I don’t want to disappoint Mom, or you, or anyone else, but I want to work in the hotel industry.”

  “You’d do well in that business.”

  She waited. “That’s it?”

  “You’re smart, organized and personable. I’m guessing one of the chains tried to recruit you already.”

  Rachel snorted. “Want to help me start packing? Or maybe get the door for me?”

  Jesse just smiled, kept his eyes on the road. “Nobody, including me, wants you to go anywhere. But you didn’t study for six years to mix margaritas every night.”

  “Okay, I get you’re not surprised,” she said. Jesse had been the first to go to college, then joined the air force and became a pilot. “Please tell me the whole family doesn’t know.”


  “Nobody’s said anything to me.”

  She bumped her head back against the seat a couple of times. Maybe she needed to loosen a few nuts and bolts. Nothing was working out today. “I’ll give you a ride to the airport tomorrow. But only because you’re leaving me your truck.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her. “What about Matt?”

  “What about him?”

  “How’s it going between you two?”

  “That’s a weird question.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Was it Trace? Is it about the casserole?”

  “Since I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ll take a stab at it and say no.”

  She’d heard the defensiveness in her own voice, recognized it in her body language and forced herself to relax. “Matt has a lot going on. You must know about Nikki by now,” she said, and he nodded. “And Mr. Gunderson is, well, I’m sure Matt wouldn’t mind my telling you...his father’s terminal. But that stays here because I don’t know if Matt’s talked to Nikki yet.”

  “He told you first,” Jesse said, frowning.

  “She wasn’t around when he came by earlier. What is the matter with you, anyway?”

  “I like Matt. Always have. Hated the way Gunderson treated him. But you’re my sister. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “What?” She felt her face heating, which really pissed her off. “That’s a completely ridiculous thing to say. Matt and I are friends.”

  “You can’t expect him to be the same guy you knew ten years ago.”

  Well, hell, she’d gone over that in her head earlier today. She didn’t want to hear it from Jesse, or anyone else. “You think because he’s some hotshot rodeo star he’s out to nail every woman he can? Including me?” she murmured, crossing her arms again. “Matt isn’t like that.”

  Jesse exhaled slowly, the low sound of his breath getting on her nerves. She wasn’t looking for anyone’s input. “I agree,” he said finally. “But the guy has fought his share of demons. Maybe he’s worked it out by now. For both your sakes, I hope so.”

  Rachel stared at him, the churning in her belly not to be ignored. What did Jesse know that she didn’t? Unless it was important he never would’ve broached the subject. Of her three brothers he was the most circumspect, the least likely to tread into her business. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know you,” he said, giving her a patient smile. “You’ve checked him out online.”

  “Well, yeah, of course I did, and there’s a ton of stuff, but I’m still not following you.”

  “Did you go back to articles on his early career?”

  “Some.”

  “He was pretty wild. Both in the arena and in his private life. He took a lot of unnecessary risks.”

  “I did see a blog to that effect, but he was younger and obviously he’s on the right path now.”

  “He was lucky, because there was a definite pattern. More than one reporter noticed he seemed to have a death wish. He rode when he was hurt, was getting into bar fights...does that sound like Matt?”

  She shook her head. “You’ve made your point,” she said, and turned to stare out the window in silence.

  The scars...so many...no wonder he’d been uneasy. She’d bet not all of the wounds had come with the territory. She wasn’t disappointed to learn this about him or afraid that he’d irrevocably changed, because at his core he wasn’t a man prone to violence. Somehow she understood that he’d felt he deserved the punishment. And that broke her heart.

  Oh, crap, she should be used to it. Matt Gunderson had already broken her heart more than once. Sadly, she feared he wasn’t done.

  * * *

  FIRST THING RACHEL DID when she arrived at the storage barn was open the windows and swing the doors wide, hoping to diffuse the scent of old hay and saddle soap. Clearly no one had remembered to ask Mr. Jorgensen to air the place out. But it would be fine...it wasn’t as if the familiar smells would chase away partygoers.

  Louise and Sylvia from the fabric shop showed up minutes later, as did the elderly Lemon sisters. And right behind them came Gretchen, who warned them she only had forty-five minutes before her shift started at the Watering Hole.

  Trace’s friend Sam, a nice-looking hand from the Circle K who’d moved to town two years ago, was helping reinforce the stage. Rachel had met him in the fall, then seen him around town on occasion. Sam had been worthy of a second and third look, but his problem was that he knew he was hot. So no thank you.

  Everyone went straight to work, the women happily observing the unwritten rule that chatting and gossiping were requisites as they unpacked last year’s decorations. Between loud strikes of the hammer, the men contributed muffled curses that the women ignored, or at least pretended to.

  It was all very familiar and comforting for Rachel. The activity kept her mind occupied and made the time speed by, until the subject of Matt came up. She promptly excused herself from cutting strips of red crepe paper to find the thermos she’d set down somewhere.

  Dammit, she didn’t want to think about him. As if she could block the images of him from this afternoon, naked, aroused and utterly stunning. Even that wasn’t her biggest problem. Reliving the gentle and sure way he’d touched her, remembering the tenderness in his eyes—that would be her undoing.

  After peeking outside, disappointed she didn’t see his truck, she pulled out the old wooden ladder from behind the loft steps. Had she been thinking clearly, she would’ve brought a more sturdy model from this century. But she wasn’t going up that high, so she enlisted Miriam Lemon’s help to hold the ladder steady, and then went to work hanging shiny red hearts from the rafters.

  An hour later, she climbed down. Backing up while studying the spacing of the hearts, Rachel asked, “What do you think?”

  No one answered so she turned to Miriam and her sister, Mabel, who stood sullenly to the side. The twins were eighty going on twelve. If you asked one of them to do something, you’d better come up with an equally important task for the other.

  “Oh?” Mabel pursed her pale wrinkled lips, faking surprise. “Were you asking for my opinion?”

  Rachel sighed. “Anybody feel free to speak up.”

  The second the two women started talking over each other, Rachel realized her mistake. They thought the hearts should be evenly hung and not falling to different heights. Everyone knew valentine hearts were red, so why were some silver and pink? And should someone stand guard over the punch bowl tomorrow night to keep hellions from adding spirits?

  At the back of the barn, Jesse and Sam were hooking up additional lighting, both clearly aware of the Pandora’s box she’d opened. She was pretty sure electrical work hadn’t plastered the grins on their faces.

  The twins moved on to discuss the merits of the band that had been chosen for the dance. The members attended the high school, and according to the sisters, it was no secret that kids nowadays were incapable of recognizing good music.

  Rachel tried to tune them out. She doubted they noticed her absence when she returned the ladder. Or perhaps they had, because their voices grew louder, following her around the large barn while she picked up boxes and trash and inspected the sturdiness of the folding tables that still needed to be set up.

  God help her, she was not in the mood for this nonsense. She thought Jamie and Nikki might have shown up by now, and Jesse’s warning lurked somewhere in her brain, nagging at her.

  The thermos was empty, and she grabbed it, hoping to get a refill at the Watering Hole or Marge’s Diner. If nothing else, the walk would do her good. She needed the fresh air and solitude, a few private minutes to let her own thoughts drive her insane. Why should the sisters have all the fun?

  Oh, yeah, she was losing it, all right. She breathed the brisk air deep into her lungs. To the west, pale pink remnants of the sun wove through the Belt Mountains. No snow was forecast, which made her happy. For the sake of the dance and herself. She’d hate having to rearrange activities for the Sundance g
uests tomorrow.

  Darkness was gathering quickly over the town, sending most people home for supper. Several trucks and cars were parked outside the diner, a few more pickups hugged the curb in front of the Watering Hole down the block. For a second she thought she spotted Nikki on the sidewalk near the bar but a huge customized truck with obnoxiously big tires blocked her view.

  She looked both ways, then started to cross Main when she got another glimpse. It was Nikki, talking to the husky kid that had hired on at the Lone Wolf last fall—the bodyguard. Rachel didn’t know his real name, but everyone used the moniker behind his back because he clearly spent too much time pumping iron and rarely left Gunderson’s side.

  A friend had shown up with him one day—she’d heard his name was Tony—stocky, but not as muscular, or much past the legal age. Both wore tough-guy expressions, Stetsons and boots like uniforms. But neither were cowboys. She’d have to remember to ask Matt about them. And what the hell was Nikki doing with the bodyguard? He wasn’t her type.

  Rachel got her answer when Nikki hauled off and slapped him across the face. He laughed and grabbed her wrist. She yelled at him, then used her free hand to slap him again. Her palm connected with his cheek in a wallop that echoed off the bar’s brick facade. His head flew to the side.

  Shocked, Rachel froze for a moment, still too far to help. But she found her feet quickly when she saw the anger explode in the man’s face.

  “Get the hell away from her,” Rachel shouted, dropping the thermos and running toward them.

  The man didn’t even spare her a glance. He caught Nikki’s other wrist and twisted. She cried out, cursed a blue streak and tried to knee him. Loud country music spilled out of the bar onto the street. It was likely Nikki and Rachel had gone unheard.

  She had to get help from inside the Watering Hole. Before she could, Matt’s pickup jammed to a screeching halt in the middle of the street. He jumped out and charged the man. Either the guy was taken by surprise or the blind fury in Matt’s face convinced him to release Nikki. She stumbled backward, saved from hitting the sidewalk by the brick wall. On impact she gasped.